Post-it Notes and Warm Places
by Scarlet Scribe
Summary: Not everything is okay for Mabel Pines after Weirdmageddon ends. When a completely uncalled for outburst at her twin brings all of her lingering troubles and concerns to the surface, another family member helps her out in the best way that he can.


A/N: I wrote this fic especially for **Day 6** of Tumblr user scribefindegil's **The Power of Mabel Week**! The prompt was **Being Cared For** , so that's exactly what I wrote about. This takes place post-Weirdmageddon before the twins leave for the summer, and it ended up being way longer than I thought it would be. Warning for a brief Journal 3 spoiler. Pretty plot-heavy stuff going on here.

* * *

" _Stupid Dipper."_

Mabel gave a little huff as she hopped up onto her bed, her blood steaming red as she pulled the neck of her sweater up over her head. The warm, fuzzy inside immediately welcomed her like an old friend, the way it did every time she happened to be upset enough to dive into Sweater Town. Grumbling, she swiftly drew her legs up and drug the rest of her sweater down over her knees, until soon only the dome of her head could be seen amidst the pink fabric.

" _Stupid show."_

She hadn't meant to get so explosive toward her twin. Not to the point of screaming and knocking his bowl of popcorn over onto the floor, that is. Safe inside the confines of her sweater, Mabel cringed at the memory, not even two minutes old yet, of her and Dipper disputing over what show to watch on TV. Dipper had been adamant on some sort of paranormal ghost-hunting show, while she had wanted to put on _Dream Boy High—The Totally Rad Television Movie._

Normally they would have come to some sort of agreement on what to watch, work out a plan that would satisfy the both of them, but that's not how things had gone down this time. It was like the _Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons_ incident, but so much more worse.

" _Stupid—ugh…"_

Once the yelling had started she had been unable to stop—as if some sort of plug had been pulled inside of her that just couldn't be put back in. Whether it had been frustration or anger or impatience that had built up inside of her, it had driven her on to get angry and spat hurtful words toward her twin, something she would have never done on a normal day. Although she had been furious at the time, she felt nothing but bad now for the way she had acted.

Dipper had shouted, too, but his words hadn't been nearly as hurtful as hers. Mabel hadn't even bothered to see the expression on his face after it had all gone down, turning around and darting up the stairs before anyone could stop her.

And the worst part was Ford had been standing right there when it had all happened. Luckily Stan had been out of the room, but her other uncle had gotten a front row seat to all of it, and who _knew_ what he thought of her now.

"… _Stupid me."_

She had been doing such a good job at remaining positive after Weirdmageddon had ended. She had been doing such a good job at being supportive, at pushing down the negative feelings that had threatened to claw their way to the surface after everything was said and done, but it had obviously come to tipping point just now. It was just who she was, though! It was the center of her very being to be the happy person who was ready to come to everyone's aid, to be the positive one willing to make others feel better!

If she wasn't that, then who was she?

Mabel just didn't want anyone to worry about her. She wanted to be the one cheering everyone else up, not be the one who needed cheering up. After all, there were certain people in the house who needed comfort far more than she did, _deserved_ it even.

She curled into herself further, grabbing bundles of pink sweater in her hands and clutching the fabric hard.

 _After all, she had been the one, the one who…_

Mabel's eyes began to shine over with wetness, and she shut them, sniffling hard in an attempt to stop the flow of tears down her cheeks. Her mind absentmindedly fell to her beloved scrapbook before she realized it was downstairs, perched on top of the dinosaur skull next to Stan's chair, and she couldn't hold back the whimper that wrenched itself out of her throat.

She forgot she had been relaying it to Stan earlier in an attempt to better re-jog his mind. The memories were streaming back slowly but surely now, like puzzle pieces reconnecting themselves one-by-one, and to make things better, Ford had recently found a multitude of old tapes in the Mystery Shack's basement of him and Stan as children, much to their collective surprise.

Now that he was starting to show them to his brother, the scrapbook was rarely needed, but Mabel still found comfort in sitting beside Stan and relaying all the things they had done that summer to him, found comfort in feeling the warmth of his body pressed up against hers and knowing that he was right there, okay. So she did it anyway.

The girl couldn't bring herself to face whoever was downstairs, not in her state. Instead she pushed herself back into the corner of her bed and took deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to suppress the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes.

A sudden creak outside the attic door shook her of her thoughts. Mabel's heart nearly stopped at the noise, panicked mind jumping to the conclusion that someone was coming up to check on her. She couldn't let whoever it was see her like this in such a distressed and vulnerable position, she just couldn't!

So she remained still.

Another noise this time, a soft knock, made her poke her head up out of her sweater. Now her heartrate was speeding up to about a thousand beats per minute. She could definitely sense a presence outside the door, and she contemplated what course of action to take. Should she call out to whoever was there? Stand up and go see who it was? Do nothing?

A slight ruffling sound had her eyes flying to the door. She waited expectantly for something to happen, and her gaze traveled further down to the threshold. Something was being pushed smoothly over it, and her eyes widened at the object.

It was a sticky note.

Mabel weighed her options. After a few seconds she hesitantly scrubbed at her eyes and adjusted her sweater back into place before pushing herself off her bed. Smoothing down her frazzled hair, she took slow steps toward the front of the room, reaching down to pick up the small paper.

Her eyes immediately fell to what was written on top. She almost couldn't make out what was written on it at first, until she realized it was in small, fancy cursive.

 _Are you alright?_

The longer Mabel stared at it the more the realization began to dawn on her. There was only one person in the Mystery Shack who wrote in cursive, and that was—

" _Grunkle Ford?"_ she silently mouthed.

He was still standing on the other side of the door, she could feel it. Despite knowing who it was, Mabel still couldn't bring herself to face him, have him see her so teary-eyed and falling apart. Instead she stepped over to reach into her duffel bag, withdrawing a sparkly purple pen with feathers bursting from the end of it.

Mabel flopped onto her stomach just outside the door and placed her hand on the note, pondering how to answer him. After about a minutes, she scrawled out a single word under Ford's sentence.

 _Yes._

No, no, he wouldn't buy that in the slightest, she knew he wouldn't. She shook her head and scratched it out, pressing down so hard it nearly broke the tip of her pen, a bubble of ink oozing out onto the paper.

 _Kinda._

Hmm…

Another scratch.

 _Not really._

She slid it back under the door with baited breath, afraid for his next response. When the note came back to her about ten seconds later, she immediately swooped it up into her hands.

 _Would you like to talk about it?_

Mabel thought. Her head flopped to the side, left hand absentmindedly rubbing her eye. Talking it out would be the best thing to do, and she knew it, but part of her was still…unsure. She pressed the pen to the post-it note once again.

 _I dunno…_

A vague answer, but it was the truest to how she was feeling at the moment. Mabel pushed it back under the door and eyed the old splintery wood floor, stomach tying itself up into knots. The sound of another sticky note being pulled from its pad reached her ears, and it came through about a minute later, longer than the last one.

 _That's fine if you don't feel like discussing it face-to-face. We can keep communicating through writing, if you want to. If I may ask, why were you so upset about not being able to watch your show?_

Mabel frowned. She brought the end of the pen to her mouth and attempted to chew on it before remembering it was covered in feathers, and she immediately spit it out, opting to instead tap it against her cheek. She turned the post-it note over. What to say that wouldn't reveal her true feelings?

 _It's just that…I was really looking forward to watching it, is all, and Dipper had to come in like a butt-face and ruin it!_

Back under the door. Then to her again.

 _You yelled an awful lot for missing out on a show you were hoping to watch._

Something in Mabel's chest lurched, the thought of Ford figuring her out causing her to panic slightly. She licked her lips, trying to think up a response that wouldn't completely blow her cover. When it came to her she jotted it down quickly.

 _Technically it was a movie, and I can be preeeeeeety dramatic sometimes, Grunkle Ford._

There, the drawn out 'pretty' would settle it. Things were going to be fine. He wouldn't suspect a thing.

However, when it came back to her again he sounded less than okay with her answer.

 _Are you sure? I consider myself to be rather observant, and you really seemed like something else was bothering you._

Mabel's mind went into full-on panic mode at that point. Somehow she began to both sweat _and_ break-out in goosebumps, if that was even possible. The majority of her mind really didn't want to burden her great-uncle with her troubles, but another smaller part knew that if she didn't talk to someone the nasty feelings would just keep building up inside of her, and then she would eventually explode at someone she cared about _again_. Just like she did with Dipper.

She wrote out a sentence. _I guess…something kind of is on my mind._

Under the door, back to her.

 _You can tell me if something's wrong. I'm no better than Stan when it comes to dealing with other people's emotions, but I'd…I'd like to help you, Mabel._

Her stomach rolled. What to do? It was like her brain was at war with itself, fighting, struggling to figure out the right decision.

She thought hard for a second, taking a deep breath through her nose, before making up her mind. Her hands shook as she pushed herself up off the ground, and then she reached for the door knob.

Mabel was immediately met with a concerned-looking Ford the moment she cracked open the door. The older man was peering down at her, hands clasped behind his back and his eyes filled with concern. "Mabel?" he asked, a slight frown tugging at his lips. "Mabel, what's—"

He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence before she launched herself at him.

For a second, Ford was taken aback by his niece's abruptness. He stumbled back a bit as she quite literally jumped into his arms, but luckily his heavy boots gained some traction on the wood floor, keeping him rooted to the spot. Mabel did nothing but bury her face into his sweater as he wrapped his arms around her small frame, holding her tight against his chest. Her body quaked and shook like a leaf, and she could barely feel it as Ford placed a hand against her back.

"Mabel," he said, softer this time. "This is about more than just the television show, isn't it?"

Unable to speak, she nodded into her uncle's sweater, trying her hardest not to cry.

"Please, tell me," he pleaded. "As I said before, I only wish to help you. Unless you'd like me to go get Stanley instead—"

She lifted her head up, wide eyes gazing fiercely into Ford's. "Nonono! I mean, I think I should…talk…to you…and not Grunkle Stan about this. For reasons."

"Alright." Ford leant down onto one knee, still holding Mabel loosely in his grasp. "Take your time, then. I don't want to pressure you."

Mabel took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut. Her lip quivered, and she turned to face the other way. Finally, the moment of truth. How would she tell him this? How would he react?

"Grunkle Ford…"

She hesitated for a second. It was now or never.

"… _I think I'm the one who started Weirdmageddon!"_

It came out louder than she had wanted it to. When Mabel opened her eyes she expected Ford to be outraged, his eyes to be aflame with anger and his lips to be pulled back into a snarl because _she was the one who started all the chaos, she was the one who let Bill nearly take over the world._ But instead he just looked…perplexed, one eyebrow quirked high in confusion. She let out a little noise as he gently set her on her feet and twisted her to face him.

"Mabel, why in the world would you ever think that?" Ford began. He sounded mystified, for a man who seemed to know so much about everything. "What ever gave you the idea that it was your fault?"

"It was…I was just," she stuttered, hands flying to her hair and pulling on it in nervous habit. "You weren't there when it happened, but after you and Dipper came back from that mission or whatever right before it started, we got into a huge fight! I…I ran out of the Mystery Shack, and I thought that I'd brought my backpack with me, but it turned out to be his!"

He nodded for her to go on.

"And…and while I was alone in the woods this nerdy time-travel guy named Blendin Blandin came up to me and told me…told me he'd give me more summer in exchange for the riftie-thing in Dipper's backpack, so I gave it to him, but he turned out to be Bill!"

Ford's ears perked up at the mention of Bill Cipher. "That ! #$%^&*—I'm sorry, that darn demon possessed him?"

"Yeah!" Mabel exclaimed, nodding frantically. "Anyway, I gave it to him, and that's when his eyes turned all yellow-y and slitted! He began laughing like a maniac, and then he threw the rift on the ground, making it shatter into a bazillion pieces! That's what started the apocalypse."

She took a deep breath, placing a hand over her heaving chest. Her eyes grew watery again as she stared up into Ford's face.

"My fault. It was all my fault Weirdmageddon started because I was just a stupid, gullible little…"

" _Mabel Pines!"_

Did that tone and volume really just come out of Ford's mouth? Momentarily stunned at his outburst, Mabel gulped and immediately looked up at him.

"I'm not going to let you stand here and blame yourself for something that was completely out of your control," he said sternly. "For starters, there was no way you could have known about the rift and where it came from. To you it probably seemed as harmless as handing a snow globe to a random tourist. You didn't know what the repercussions would be of handing it off, and that…that was my fault." Ford looked to the side, his voice taking on guilty tone. "I shouldn't even have let Dipper know about it. And I…I regret that decision now."

"Grunkle Ford?" Mabel began softly, momentarily drawn off of her own story. "Why did you trust Dipper with knowing about the rift…but not me? I could've handled it, I know I could've."

Ford shook his head. "That's the thing, Mabel. I should've just kept my big mouth shut. I should've just gotten rid of it myself without letting anyone know about it. You see…the rift was basically created from the instability of the portal after I dismantled it. I kept it contained in what I did because I thought it would be safe until I disposed of it, but it obviously didn't do a thing."

He frowned.

"And as for why I told your brother…it had nothing to do with not believing you could be trusted," he said. "Dipper was so eager to work alongside of me and know what was happening with the portal that it…well, it blinded me. He proved to be one of the most worthy partners I've had in years, _decades_ even, and that's why I thought he should know about it. But I failed to realize he was just a child. And you know what?"

"What?" Mabel whispered.

" _You're_ just a child as well. A child who just wasn't sure about what she was getting herself wrapped up in. Mabel, you were _manipulated_ into handing the rift off, you _have_ to understand that," he said. "None of it was ever your fault. It was Bill and _only_ Bill who caused the apocalypse."

Mabel sniffled. Her uncle's reassurance put her mind a bit more at ease, but she wasn't completely fine just yet. "Okay, then. But still though! I ended up letting my stupid emotions get the best of me, and I yelled at Dipper! It wasn't even the stupid movie that made me act the way I did either! Grunkle Ford, I acted so rude toward him, and I felt super bad for it afterward! He probably hates my guts now that I'm thinking about it…"

"…Something tells me he may understand what you're going through," Ford said. "No one in this household has exactly had it…easy since Weirdmageddon ended. It can be hard to keep a level head while there's obviously still some tension in the air, and that goes for everyone."

Mabel harrumphed. She crossed her arms and wiggled herself out of her uncle's grip, something still nagging at her brain like a persistent fly. Her eyes avoided his as she flopped to the ground. "I just…don't feel like I deserve the amount of comfort you're giving me," she said so quietly she could barely hear herself.

"What are you talking about?" Ford asked, expression taking on a new form of confusion. He kneeled down even further in an attempt to speak directly to her. "Why would you ever think you don't deserve comforting?"

"Because I'm supposed to be the happy one!" Mabel suddenly yelled. Redness seeped into her cheeks, and she immediately brought a hand to her mouth, stunned at her own outburst. "I'm super-duper sorry, I…I didn't mean to yell. But it's true!" She sighed and looked to the ground. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ford settle down next to her, and she continued on.

"Ever since Dipper and I were born I was always the bringer of cheerfulness and sunshine and rainbows, you know?" she explained, saying the last part in a too-happy tone. She smashed two fingers to her cheeks with a large smile for emphasis. "The light to his dark, the day to his night, yada yada yada. It kind of became a thing for me to cheer him up when he was upset, and it happened a ton when we were littler because people liked to bully him for being weird and different."

Ford made a sound akin to a sympathetic grunt.

"Eventually it became my role to always wear a smile even when things were really bad, to be the one positive person in a room full of Negative Nancys. And it wasn't like, bad for me or anything! I enjoyed it, and I still enjoy it, and it's super easy and fun to help other people out when they need it! But then Weirdmageddon happened and everything turned all topsy-turvy."

"How so?"

"It became like…super hard for me to keep my emotions under wraps," she said with a hint of frustration. "More so than usual. It was like every little thing that happened made me angry or sad or just not my usual bubbly self, especially after Grunkle Stan…"

She grew quiet. Ford seemed to sense her discomfort and hastily interrupted, "You don't have to finish that thought if you don't want to."

"Yeah." Mabel shook her head a few times in an attempt to clear her brain. "Yeah. Don't get me wrong, though, I tried my hardest to be happy, but…it was hard. And then what happened a little while ago was kind of like the icing on top of the cake. Something inside of me just _burst_ like a big balloon then."

Mabel sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes. Her fingers itched to pull the neck of her sweater back up over her head.

"The real reason I feel like I don't deserve comfort though is because, well…I didn't have it as bad as any of you guys did during Weirdmageddon."

There was a beat of silence between them.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ford asked. He scooted closer to her, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "I'm almost certain I speak for everyone when I say that we all had it tough. What makes your situation any different?"

"Let me think." Mabel tacked off each person on her fingers as she spoke of them. "Well, _you_ were captured by Bill, turned into a gold statue, and practically held prisoner by him. Grunkle Stan hid out here and took care of the townsfolk until Dip and I came back but then…you know. And Dipper spent, what was it, three whole days alone surviving the apocalypse on his own? Heck, Wendy even started her own rebellion and Soos traveled the entire town looking for people to help. He even has some songs written about him I think?"

She exhaled, long and loud, feeling far too weary for her young age.

"And where was I when all of that was happening?"

"Well, from what Dipper and the others told me," Ford began, " _you_ were being held in a reality-altering bubble created by Bill, correct? That doesn't really sound like my definition of fun."

"It was though, that's the thing! Bill made it so that it fit every one of my expired candy-induced fantasies," Mabel explained. "Rainbows and glitter and stuffed animal trees and sentient waffles willing to do my bidding. It was like my own personal heaven, and the worst part about it was that I didn't even want to leave!" She threw her arms out. "And I wouldn't have if Dipper hadn't made a huge nerdy speech about facing reality and growing up. Grunkle Ford, I was practically living in paradise while the rest of you suffered! And you know how that makes me feel?"

In one swift motion, Mabel reached over to Ford's pad of post-it notes. She grabbed the pen he had been writing with and proceeded to draw a huge black scribble on the top paper before stamping it to her chest.

"It made me feel like this."

There was a brief pause.

"All of that still happened at Bill's hand, though," Ford argued. His frowned before continuing, "Mabel, as much as you want to say what happened to you wasn't nearly as severe as what happened to the rest of us, you need to realize that you were in almost the exact same boat I was. Tricked and being held prisoner by Bill. And even though you thought you were in dream land, it was all just that: a dream." His voice took on a grave tone. "One you could have very well been imprisoned in forever."

"Hmph." Mabel didn't speak as all of this sunk in. Ford was partially true. Even though she had been living it up inside of Bill's bubble, carefree and happy not having to reside in the apocalypse-ridden Gravity Falls, her situation had still been a dire one. As she had learned from Dipper's tear-jerking speech, it wasn't the true reality in the slightest. It wasn't the real world. And if she had decided to stay in "Mabel Land" she would have been stuck there for who knows how long, trapped inside of her very own fantasies forever…

"Mabel..." Ford said, turning to face his niece with two gentle hands placed on her shoulders, "...all of these doubts you're having about yourself, all of these concerns you're facing over if certain things are your fault or not, they're all completely irrational. You needn't worry about anyone. I mean—I'm alive, _you're_ alive, your brother is alive, and so is Stanley. We all got our fair share of bumps and bruises, but we made it out."

"Yeah...I guess that's true…" she said.

"And even though it took a while, everyone around here is nearly okay again, right?"

"A-huh..."

A small smile touched Ford's lips, but it just as quickly vanished. "I…I just never really figured you as the type of person to burden herself with such serious things," he admitted, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "Not this badly, at least. I am so sorry if I overlooked that, Mabel."

"No, don't be!" she said quickly, grabbing the bottom of her sweater and fiddling with it. "I mean, it's not like I was really talkative about it or anything. No one could figure it out, probably because I'm such a good actress."

It was meant to come out as more of a quip, but Mabel's voice just didn't hold the energy required to make it one. The girl shifted onto her knees and sighed, sticking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, her mouth drawn into a tight line.

A few seconds later, though, she could feel Ford wrap his arms around her, and she let out a small grunt as he lifted her up. She didn't say a word the entire time as he settled her into his lap and draped his arms around her.

"Well, if I know anything about you," he began softly, "it's that you're far too sweet and caring of a girl to intentionally start an all-out apocalypse and release a dream demon into this dimension." He paused. "And sometimes…you don't always have to be the one giving others comfort. It's okay to need it yourself every once in a while, and that's something I realized a long time ago. No one in this household has had it easy. Every one of us has an excuse to need consoling, and that includes you."

Ford reached over to grab the post-it notes, and Mabel eyed him as he plucked a piece of paper from the pad and picked up his pen. She couldn't see what he was writing on it, but then he pressed it clean over the post-it scribble on her chest. She peered down at it, and what she saw made her gasp.

It was a heart.

"Out of all the people I've ever met and associated with in the past, you have the biggest heart of all of them," Ford explained. "You're also the most unique and the most kind. Because of that, I could never blame you for starting something as catastrophic as Weirdmageddon, nor deny you of any comforting you may need. Do you understand that?"

Mabel listened intently to her uncle, warmth pooling into her chest at how fondly he spoke of her. She nodded up at him in confirmation. "Yeah…yeah I do."

"Are you alright?"

"I...I think so." Mabel could start to feel it again. The tightness in the back of her throat, the burning behind her eyelids. She risked a glance up at Ford, and her vision began to blur at the way he was gazing at her with an expression she hadn't seen on his face since the Pines had rescued him from the Fearamid. An expression of utter love and care and sympathy, all things she had been yearning ever since the apocalypse had ended.

Something else broke in her, then, and instead of yelling or stomping out of the hallway, she found herself letting out a whimper.

Ford didn't say anything as Mabel buried her face into his chest and began to sob. It was the first time she had openly cried since Stan had gotten his memory erased, and each wail that ripped from her throat shook her body hard with the very force. She could barely feel it as Ford began to gently run a hand up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her, and if anything it only made her sob harder and grab the sides of his sweater.

"It's okay to cry," Ford said between sobs, patting her back. "Letting out your emotions like this is healthy. Your feelings are completely valid, Mabel. It's fine, it's alright…"

They stayed like that for nearly ten minutes, her in his arms, weeping. It felt more than relieving to finally cry out all of the yucky feelings she had been harboring inside of herself since Weirdmageddon had ended, all of the scrutiny and the blame and the doubts, and she could feel herself growing wearier the longer it went on.

Soon Mabel found herself running out of tears. Eventually her sobbing tapered off into a few small hiccups and snivels, Ford holding her close the entire time as she attempted to compose herself. When she finally found the strength to lift her head she pulled away, smiling sheepishly at the dark orange patch she had left on his sweater. "Oh, sorry about that…"

He waved her off. "Ah, it's okay. I was going to change shirts soon anyway."

Mabel sniffled one last time and wiped at her pasty face with the back of her sweater sleeve. "T…thank you for making me feel better, Grunkle Ford. I don't think this would have happened if you hadn't come up to check on me."

Ford nodded. "It's nothing, Mabel. It pains me to see you so upset, especially for someone who's usually so cheerful," he said. His face immediately took on a serious expression, and he frowned. "But I don't expect you to bottle up your emotions like this anymore. You can talk to _any_ of us if you have a problem, no matter how minuscule it is. We'd be more than happy to help you out."

"Okay," she agreed. For the first time in half an hour Mabel smiled. Her entire body felt considerably lighter, and she swiftly jumped up to wrap her arms around his neck. "Grunkle Ford, you said you aren't good with emotions, but I think you dealt with mine perfectly. Are…you okay though?"

He nodded. "I'm fine knowing you're alright again, Mabel."

She smiled, her face lighting up as a thought struck her. "Oh, and by the way," she began, eyes falling to the post-its that were still scattered on the floor, "where did the whole sticky note idea come from?"

"That? It was just something Stanley and I did as children from-time-time," he explained. "A coping mechanism we'd use if one of us happened to be upset and locked up in our room unable to properly speak. We'd communicate through passing little notes back and forth under the door, and I figured this was a good time to utilize it."

Mabel hummed. "Hm, interesting! I think I might tell Dipper about it sometime."

"Speaking of which—"

"—I gotta go find him and apologize!" Mabel finished. She smacked a hand to her forehead. "Heck, I almost forgot about that! I wonder where he is..."

"He might have gone outside to think. I would have done that if it were me," he suggested. "In that case, you can probably wait until he cools off and comes back."

"I'll do that, then." Mabel looked up at him. "In the meantime, do you think that…that maybe you could sit here with me a little longer? Just for a few more minutes?"

Ford smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I don't see why not."

Mabel sighed contentedly as she burrowed herself into her uncle's lap, closing her eyes. His hands came up to rest around her, one on her back and the other on her head, and she grinned softly. The simple gestures made her feel safe and comfortable under his watch, things she hadn't felt for a long time since the world had nearly ended. As Mabel began to doze off, safe in Ford's arms, her foggy mind came to one simple conclusion.

The warmth of being in her uncle's hold beat paying a visit to Sweater Town _any_ day of the week.


End file.
